


Past, Present, Future

by jillyfae



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragon Age Holiday Cheer, Epilogue, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My lovely giftee for the <a href="http://dragonageholidaycheer.tumblr.com/">DAHC</a> gift exchange requested something for one of her <a href="http://chenria.tumblr.com/charactersda2">OC's</a>.  But I liked all three of her requests so much I couldn't decide which one to write about, and opted to do a small snapshot of each instead. So here, a small ficlet collection, a few snapshots of her gorgeous characters and their loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past, Present, Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chenria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chenria/gifts).



**Sebastian and Patrice: Past**

He remembered how it used to be.  When his smiles meant something more than anger tucked away for the night, when her own had not been tinged with such sadness.  When a day spent in her company meant a day of peace, of joy, of simple domesticity, helping Orana or Bodahn, or gently discouraging Sandal's latest experiment, rather than a careful dance of politics and manners and concessions.

He remembered when it was easy to converse, whether it was recollections of Starkhaven and Lothering, or prayers for her mother, or tales of their friends, Isabela's latest escapade, Fenris' most recent job, Varric's newest story, even Hightown's ridiculous gossip, each word free, and light, and innocent.

Most of their words were stilted now, careful and oblique, so as not to wound again.

He remembered when she was the first thing he'd thought of every morning, when wishes for her health and joy had underlined his prayers, when he'd lived a life without all the terrors and responsibilities he had now.

He remembered the first time they'd made love.

He remembered how the fire between them used to kindle, and rise, and then settle, warm and soothing, rather than sparking higher and higher until it went out, one last flare of pleasure and lust and pain, leaving them both too cold to manage even the masks of their smiles, instead retreating to separate chambers and separate beds, to warm themselves with too much wine and velvet bed-drapes and layers of heavy quilts.

***

She remembered falling in love.

Remembered the first time he'd said her given name, a revelation, a prayer, the way her fingers had trembled against the skin of his cheek, the way his eyes had so slowly closed at her touch.  Remembered the first hesitant brush of his lips against hers, the heat of his skin, the strength of his arms as hesitation faded and they came together at last.

She remembered the way his voice broke when she let Anders go, the way his eyes turned cold as ice, his heart as broken as his words at what he saw as her betrayal.

They never had thawed, not even when he offered himself to her as Prince.  Her sins were forgiven, perhaps, but never ever forgotten.

And even when each breath turned sharp as she watched his shoulders curve over a map or a letter from his agents, still hunting one lone abomination, even when each beat of her heart hurt, a violent impact inside her chest, she could not forget either.

She remembered love.

Even when she wasn't sure either of them could feel it anymore.

* * *

* * *

**Valeria and Fenris: Present**

Her skin is warm to the touch, soft beneath the tips of his fingers now that his gauntlets have been set aside, and she sighs, eyes closing, lashes black and thick, almost thick enough to hide the shadows beneath her eyes.  She leans in closer, her forehead resting against his, the tension across her shoulders easing now that the door is closed, now that the rest of Kirkwall is locked away.

Now that they are alone.

He has never dared hope for such a thing.

Never thought he would want to hope, before he met her.

Or even for a while afterwards, the thrum of magic beneath her skin a reminder of everything he has lost.  

It seems strange it is now a promise, an echo of all he has gained.

She is so beautiful, her eyes a brighter blue than the sun touched sky or the far edges of the sea, and there is something about her hair when it tangles between his fingers, soft and red and brushing against her skin to startle her into a smile, that makes him feel that he is home, perhaps even more than the warm brush of her lips, or the gentle caress of her fingers against his skin, or the weight of her when she falls asleep in his arms.

He is not sure what she sees in him to ease the weight of her burdens, but he is glad, painfully, terribly glad, a joy sharper than the memory of his branding, sweeter than any wine, thicker than the blood that neither of them will ever quite wash out of their memories.

But it is only when he is with her, that he thinks perhaps some day they may both lay their ghosts to rest.

It is only with her that he discovers peace.

***

It is only with him that she can forget she is a mage.

It is only with him, the one person who hates the perils of her power as much as she does, that she can lay the danger aside, that she can let herself rest, that she can find relief.

She knows if ever she goes too far, he is strong enough to stop her.

Only now, with him, she finds she is no longer afraid, and she starts to believe she may never need such care, may never falter, may never see blood spilled again.

There has been too much blood.

But here there is none.

There is the heat of his breath against her skin, the impossible softness of his hair, so pale it doesn't even blush with the reflection of the light from the fire, but stays as white as moonlight.  

There is the soft curve of Fenris' small smile, enough to make her heart catch, and she can never help but smile back.

She thinks that even if that was all he was to her, a companion, a quiet presence at her side, a teacher, a student, a friend, that would be enough to save her.

That he is more, that he is her beloved, that he loves her back, is a gift she treasures, a miracle she clings to when she wakes from nightmares, a hope that dawn will always come again.

Or, if it doesn't, at least he will be there to keep her safe in the dark, to keep her warm with each touch of his skin and the low rumble of his laugh, that secret sound he keeps just for her.

* * *

* * *

**Meriana and Teagan: Future**

He had found precisely what he wanted by attempting to run away from it.

He didn't think that would work twice.

It was tempting to try, perhaps.  To avoid Eamon's endless grumbling, the way pride stiffened his back and tightened his voice, the way each conversation grew sharper as he attempted to enforce his will, and Teagan refused to submit.

Running away without leaving any word probably hadn't helped Eamons' temper.

 _Ah, well._ He felt his lips twitch, an almost smile barely held in check.

It had been worth it.

Would have been worth it even if the consequences had been more severe than his brother's grudging temper.

Would have been worth it even if he never found her again.  

He would still treasure the sound of her laugh, and the way her hair curved against her neck when she tilted her head to watch him.  Would remember the way she kicked her boots together to knock the mud off, a scowl darkening her eyes.  She was not a fan of _all that blasted rain_ , as several pointed sighs had made perfectly clear.  

But then she would roll her eyes, and shoot half a slanted smile at him when he laughed at her expression, and he found he quite adored the rain, himself.

He would remember, forever, the way her breath had caught, and her fingers curled against his shoulder, the first time he kissed her.

But then she'd left, haunted by some secret she'd never shared, some duty she felt she had to face alone.

He was sure he'd figured it out, now.  

 _Almost her entire family, gone, and no one ever accused_.

When the betrothal portrait from Fergus had finally arrived, and he'd realized the spoiled brat Eamon wanted him to marry was actually _his Meri_ , his unexpected gift, his joy found in one brief moment of freedom, he thought he'd never been so lucky in all his life.  

He thought his acquiescence to the arrangement would finally have made his brother happy.

It didn't.  It only raised his suspicions.

Eamon seemed to have forgotten how to be happy.

Teagan felt his mouth lift as his smile broke free.  

He was going to be happy, brother be damned.

All he had to do was find Meri again.

He'd done it once.  He'd do it again.

***

It was raining.

Again.

At least she'd managed an inn this time.  A room to herself, even.  Just this once.

No listening to someone snore, or someone else stagger by when it was too early to be morning but too late to be night.

 _He_ hadn't snored.  

He'd been warm beside her, no matter how cold or damp the wind.

He'd been able to make her laugh, no matter her mood a minute before.

He'd kissed her as if nothing else in the world could ever matter so much as the way their breath came together, the way her heart beat against his when he pulled her close.

She let her mind wander, to the memory of him, the scent of his skin and the touch of his hands, the heat of that one night, together.

Perhaps she should have told him the truth.

Perhaps he could have been trusted with her secrets.

She'd trusted him with her heart, after all.

She closed her eyes, swallowed.  She was betrothed, however little say she'd had in the matter.  She wasn't free to give him her heart.

She wasn't sure her heart was strong enough anyways, not after Howe.

She wished she'd tried.  

Now that she was alone, again, she kept _remembering_.  She couldn't stop thinking of him, of the way he could twist any sentence into a compliment, any silence into comfort, the way he never made her feel too young to be taken seriously, unlike her brother.

_Poor Fergus.  I miss him, miss who he used to be, even when we're standing right beside each other.  But that doesn't mean I shall bend to his every demand._

She sighed, and rolled over in the dark, kicking her blanket until it settled around her again.

She didn't think she'd ever get her brother back.

But maybe, when this was done, she could find _him_ again, the one she wanted, the one she trusted, the one who deserved better than her, but seemed delighted by her anyways.

Maybe he'd even forgive her, and they would get a second chance.

Perhaps she had a future after all.  She just had to survive long enough to reach it.  Which was ridiculous, and unlikely, and yet ... she was smiling as she finally fell asleep.

It would happen.  Between the two of them, anything was possible.


End file.
